Coming Home
by GM Grantham
Summary: Trip never makes a promise that he doesn't keep.
1. Prologue

"There's every way of knowing. Look, I can guarantee you that we're not going to lose touch." ~Trip Tucker from _These Are The Voyages_

_

* * *

_

**PROLOGUE**

For all intents and purposes, Trip was dead. For all intents and purposes, his burned body lay in the coffin being lowered slowly into a six-foot deep opening in the ground.

T'Pol's gaze dropped to her feet, staring at the grass beneath her shoes as if it were a fascinating new specimen of sentient life. The green blades swayed in the cool, fall Florida winds. She could almost hear their sorrowful keening as they mourned the departure of a fellow sentient creature.

T'Pol heard a choked cry and her gaze flew to Catherine Tucker, who clutched her husband and looked for all the world like a woman battered to within an inch of her life.

A lump formed in T'Pol's throat at the sight. She longed to soothe the woman's broken heart, to tell her that Trip wasn't dead. "He only needs to appear so," she would say. "The mission he has been assigned is very hazardous and he is required to give up his identity for it."

Had she not known this, she wouldn't have survived the agonizing loss herself. After the incident in which she'd locked herself in her quarters for several days and refused food or comfort, Jonathan had confessed the entire scheme to her.

Anger. That was the first of many very Human emotions that had overcome her control. She'd wanted to scream at him and had been sorely tempted to wrap her hands about his neck. Despite T'Pau's healing of her synaptic pathways, she often found particularly strong emotions more difficult to control than they had been prior to her use of Trellium.

Trip had taught her about anger. It was a sensation caused at its core by pain. That, he'd said, was what made it such a volatile emotion. The more pain the individual experienced, the greater the need to strike back at the person or thing taunting them. He'd taught her to analyze the reasons why she felt this emotion. At that moment, it had been a combination of elation that he was not in fact dead and hurt that her Captain and friend had allowed her to suffer so long.

From the first, she had been torn. Her logical mind reminded her constantly that he was dead; and yet, she still felt his presence like a ghost's touch within her mind. The vague hope that the comforting thought gave her conflicted with the reality her mind forced upon her in private moments, driving her to the brink of insanity and back again.

Why had he allowed her to suffer such cognitive dissonance? He hadn't spoken a word to her since that day. Each time she attempted to capture his gaze, he glanced away and proceeded to stride past her.

She gathered a handful of dirt from the pile beside the grave and moved to stand at the very edge of the opening. She stared at the wooden box that sat on the floor of the opening and slowly loosened her grip, allowing the earth to slip from her hand.

"Parting from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched," she whispered in archaic Vulcan. "Beyond life and beyond death; beyond tears and beyond fear."

She stood in still silence for several moments before turning and departing from the gravesite, clutching the IDIC symbol tightly to her chest.


	2. One

"There's every way of knowing. Look, I can guarantee you that we're not going to lose touch." ~Trip Tucker from _These Are The Voyages_

_

* * *

_

**ONE**

T'Pol slid into the chair, placing the bowl of plomeek broth on the table before her as she did so. As had become her custom, she bowed her head and closed her eyes, pleading with Trip's deity to return him home safely.

But the conviction in her plea wasn't as strong tonight as it had been every other night. After a year of no news, her certainty was beginning to weaken. What if he had been discovered?

She forced the thought from her mind and consumed the broth, interspacing each spoonful with a sip of her chamomile tea. Sip. Slurp. Sip. Slurp. The pattern soothed her and drove away the erratic thoughts.

Continuing her never-changing ritual, she downed the last spoonful and rose, walking the dish to the sink. She then rinsed the bowl of its remaining contents and placed it in the basin.

Shortly after, she departed for the futon in her living area and removed her unfinished copy of _New Age Vulcan Teachings_ from its place on the end table, then turning on the lamp and beginning her perusal of its contents.

Approximately an hour and six minutes later, she marked her position and replaced it on the nightstand, then moving toward her bedroom to meditate and sleep.

Trip strode down the corridor, so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly forgot to return Centurion Tyael's salute. The Praetor had requested Trip's presence in the council chambers. The slight tightness to the man's features made Trip suspect that it wasn't a social call.

He paused outside of the chambers and released a heavy sigh before stepping toward the doors, causing them to open. He strode the rest of the way into the room and halted before the long table of council members and offered the traditional salute.

"You wished to see me, Praetor?" he queried.

The Praetor stared hard at him and Trip realized that he'd allowed his accent to slip slightly into the Romulan words. The memory of a fretful confrontation with Archer had transported him briefly back to that moment. A sharp pang twisted his insides. Now more than ever, he wished that Archer was the man who had summoned him. At least then he'd be demoted instead of cut down like a sickly calf. Trip stood ramrod straight and stared right back, not daring to blink. The Praetor relaxed and continued.

"Yes, Commander," the Praetor began. His gaze narrowed. "We have heard some most disturbing news from Major Eveiss."

Trip's expression remained neutral. "Of what nature, Praetor?"

"You sent an encoded communication from the communications center last eve. The Major has traced its destination," the Praetor replied.

Trip's heart began to race and the blood pounded in his ears; however, he kept his features neutral. T'Pol would have admired his control. He remained silent for several moments before a hearty chuckle bubbled up and exploded from his mouth.

"Surely, Praetor, you know that Major Eveiss desires my position and would do anything to get it, including making up sordid lies to gain your favor," Trip replied, his tone confident.

The Praetor turned to the man beside him, his gaze thoughtful. Trip relaxed slightly when he noted the slight upward turn of the Praetor's lips.

"Praetor," a man, who Trip recognized as General Khiav, protested. "There is evidence."

The Praetor arched an eyebrow. "And what evidence might that be, General? A communication forged by Major Eveiss to incriminate Commander Liave?"

Everyone at the table, with the exception of General Khiav, laughed. Trip laughed as well, relaxing slightly when the Praetor turned toward him, an amused smirk on his face.

"Commander Liave is no more a traitor than I am," the Praetor concluded.

As the Praetor raised his gavel to dismiss the meeting, Major Eveiss strode casually into the room.

"Praetor, before you dismiss the council, please allow me to present the evidence of which General Khiav speaks," she protested.

The Praetor's lips thinned, his patience tested by Major Eveiss's insubordination. "The matter is closed, Major."

Eveiss strode toward the bench defiantly and laid a padd before the Praetor. "On this PADD, Praetor, is a recording of Liave sneaking into a top-level communications center to send an encoded message to his—keeper."

Eveiss turned to glare at Trip and he fought to keep his expression neutral.

"It is the law of the council that all evidence be viewed and judged as false or genuine," Khiav insisted.

Eveiss stepped back to stand beside Trip, a satisfied smirk crossing her features.

The Praetor's smile slid from his face and his brows furrowed in concern. Trip felt a lump forming in his throat. A recording.

The Praetor studied the contents, his frown deepening each moment he gazed at the pad. Several moments later, he glanced up and his gaze locked with Trip's. The man's lips were thin and tight, the fury evident in his eyes.

The Praetor entered a series of commands and a holographic film played before them, like a 20th century movie on a screen. The film revealed Trip as Liave sneaking quietly into the communications center of the Romulan Consulate, accessing restricted information, and sending it as a data blast to an encoded sender.

The moment the clip ended, Trip knew he would be killed for treason against the Romulan Empire at the very least. Were they to discover his true identity, he would no doubt be tortured about who he really was and what his objective was.

"Commander Liave," the Praetor began. "How do you respond to this evidence of your guilt?"

Trip clasped his hands together behind his back and stood tall. "My response is the same, Praetor. I must say I admire the Major's skilled manipulations of the images you have just seen; however, there is no more truth to them than there is to the Major's verbal claims."

"Not possible," General Khiav replied dismissively. "The only ones who have clearance are me and the Praetor himself."

Trip's eyes narrowed. "Then how, General, did the Major access the records?"

The Praetor hesitated, glancing between the two. At last, his gaze locked with Trip's and Trip felt his heart skip a beat at the trust in the older man's eyes. The Praetor then turned to the others.

"The hearing will be put on hold pending an analysis of the holographic recording Major Eveiss has provided," the Praetor concluded. "Dismissed."

Trip saluted the councilmen before turning to leave. Eveiss gripped his arm tightly and hissed into his ear, "I know who you are—Commander Tucker."

Trip's heart raced as he strode from the room. As he made his way back to his quarters, a wry grin slid over his lips. When they reviewed the recording, they'd discover that it was genuine and that the images had not been manipulated at all. He needed to make his escape before they could corner him. He'd pack tonight.

As Trip forced the remaining clothes into his already-full bag, his mind raced. How would he contact his ride? The communications center would be strictly monitored and there was no way that he would be allowed inside until the matter was cleared up.

Trip sighed and ran a hand through his once-blond hair. He'd have to hijack one of their vessels and try to get as far from the Romulan homeworld as possible. Then he'd dump the vessel and hitch a ride aboard a cargo freighter headed for Earth. It was his best hope of making it back in one piece.

Trip grabbed the duffel from the bed and made for the doors. He paused, looking around the room one last time before exiting the room, the doors swishing closed behind him.

T'Pol's eyes snapped open and she sat up abruptly, gasping for breath. After her initial disorientation had faded, she glanced at the alarm clock beside her bed. It read _2:31_. She then glanced toward the window to discover the moon glowing brightly in the dark night sky.

Another nightmare. This one had been even more vivid than the last. The nightmare was always the same. A man, a stranger to her, would be running towards her, telling her to run. But he never reached her. She would hear an energy weapon fire and he would fall to the ground mere feet from her. She'd rush to him and cradle him in her arms as she watched the life drain from his eyes. Blue eyes. Trip's eyes. But the man couldn't be her Trip. He didn't look like her Trip.

Knowing that she was too distressed to return to sleep, she slid off of her bed and strode toward the kitchen to brew a cup of chamomile tea. When she reached the kitchen, she fumbled for the light switch. She wrinkled her nose in displeasure when she nearly tripped over something large trying to do so. At last, she found the light switch and pressed the sliding bar upward to turn them on.

She then strode the rest of the way toward the resequencer and ordered her chamomile tea. She then sat down at the table, sipping the beverage while she perused the latest field report on the missing vessel, the _Balboa. _Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a plastic crate sitting beside the counter. She couldn't recall placing the item there and pondered how she had not noticed it before.

Curious, she abandoned her tea and stood, then moving toward the crate. She dropped to her knees and pried the lid open. A year's worth of dust assaulted her nose, causing her to sneeze several times. When the dust at last cleared, her gaze dropped to the crate's contents.

Inside the crate were all of the meditation candles that she'd used aboard _Enterprise_ as well as the shirt Trip had left in her quarters several years earlier following a neuropressure session. She lifted the shirt carefully from the crate and lifted the material to her nose, inhaling deeply. The heavy scent of dust caused her eyes to water. She sneezed and coughed several times. She inhaled again. She could almost detect his scent. Her eyes closed.

She'd been meaning to recycle the items; however, their sentimental value had contributed to her choice to leave them as they were. Sentiment was a foolish Human emotion that often led to, as Trip had once put it, "letting life pass you by".

Rare tears sprung to her eyes at the thought of him fighting for his life on some faraway world. There had been dreams too of him fleeing an orbital space station in a stolen vessel. At first, she hadn't recognized the star of her dreams. It was only when she'd seen the man's blue eyes that she'd known it was Trip.

She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She'd allowed the memories to overwhelm her weakened mental barriers. She would have to meditate to strengthen them.

Since had T'Pau healed her Pa'Nar Syndrome, she had found herself more susceptible to Human emotions than she had been prior to the infestation of the disease. Phlox had examined her multiple times and had concluded that though her pathways had been healed, they were weakened by her experiences. In the time since his diagnosis, she'd become more comfortable with the traces of emotion that occasionally seized her. She'd even begun to master the stronger manifestations of emotion.

T'Pol delicately removed the candles from the crate and sat them in the desired positions on the glass table in the living area. She reached for the stick lighter that laid on the end table and lit each one with a gracefulness that spoke of familiarity.

She then placed on of the soft cotton pillows on the floor and lowered herself gently onto it. She crossed her legs beneath her and stared at the flames, allowing them to hypnotize her. She closed her eyes slowly and allowed her thoughts to flow freely.

Her thoughts were of a small vessel speeding through the vast stillness of space, a larger vessel in pursuit firing upon the smaller vessel. She felt the vessel shake at each impact.


	3. Two

"There's every way of knowing. Look, I can guarantee you that we're not going to lose touch." ~Trip Tucker from _These Are The Voyages_

_

* * *

_

**TWO**

Trip threw his hands onto the console in front of him, barely keeping his face from smashing into the unforgiving metal of the console. His gaze flickered rapidly between the navigation panel, the ship status screen and the sensor screen as he struggled to pilot the foreign craft.

The vessel shuddered violently and Trip cursed when he noticed a blinking red light appear on the engines on the ship status screen. No warp engines. Those had been his last shot at making it to Jupiter Station. He sighed. He couldn't outrun them so he'd have to hide from them. If he could make it into friendly space, he could get a coded message to a nearby ship and, therefore, to Starfleet.

Sensors showed a planet with breathable atmosphere approximately five minutes from his present location. He grimaced. He'd have to push the impulse engines to nearly breach limits, but surrender wasn't an option. He released a heavy sigh and entered the commands into the console.

The computer warned of another incoming volley of weapons fire and Trip returned his focus to outmaneuvering the blasts. However, the small craft was meant to be piloted by two people. Trip found himself controlling two stations and this slowed his reaction time a great deal. One of the shots struck his maneuvering thrusters, knocking out the auto pilot.

He swallowed roughly and switched the controls to manual. He was in deep shit. Piloting had never been his strong suit and here he sat forced to pilot an alien craft that he was learning to control as he went without any computer to compensate.

He drew in a ragged breath, his heart beating a rapid tattoo against the walls of his chest. "No guts, no glory," he choked.

Struggling to remember the little piloting education he'd gotten at the Academy, he put the ship through a series of spinning and evasion maneuvers designed to deflect and avoid enemy fire.

Three minutes.

The enemy vessels managed another lucky strike, this one to the shuttle's weapons. _Won't need those anyway, _Trip thought.

Two minutes.

He barely managed to evade a blow that would have taken out the shuttle's impulse engines.

Forty-five seconds.

Trip managed to turn the shuttle to avoid yet another volley of weapons' fire, but the sudden jerk of the vessel tossed him from his chair. His shoulder collided with the nearby wall and a sickening pop echoed throughout the cabin. Trip bit his lip to contain a shout of agony.

He struggled to stand and fell into the chair in front of the console with a 'plop'. The motion jarred his injured shoulder and he yelped in surprise. Fighting off a wave of dizziness, he piloted the craft one handed toward the inhabitable planet.

_**One year later…**_

_I have lived among Humans for too long,_ she thought, grimacing. She entered Phoebe's Coffeehouse two blocks from Starfleet headquarters and took her place in the single-file line of individuals awaiting their morning brew.

One sip of the substance Humans called coffee had led her to drink far more than was healthy. Upon learning of her unusual enjoyment of the substance, Marcie, a young Human co-worker, had insisted that she sample something Marcie had identified as a 'vanilla latte'. Having an equally odd enjoyment of vanilla, T'Pol had found the beverage likewise pleasing to her palette.

Slowly, the line thinned and T'Pol found herself at the counter before the smiling barista whom T'Pol had learned was called Maria.

"Good morning, T'Pol," Maria greeted. "Your usual?"

T'Pol hesitated and glanced up at the menu. "I believe I shall be adventurous and sample the large chilled café mocha, nonfat and decaffeinated."

Maria's grin widened as she wrote the order on the recycled plastic cup. She then looked up and asked, "Would you like whipped cream with that?"

T'Pol nodded. It was a rare indulgence, but one she never regretted it on those few occasions that her curious nature overrode her logic.

Maria sat the cup next to the machine and the barista beside her began concocting the drink. "Would you like a pastry?" she asked.

T'Pol eyed the scones in the glass case momentarily before replying, "No, thank you."

"That'll be 4 credits," Maria said.

T'Pol placed the requested amount of chits into the woman's hand, then dropping another two into the tip jar beside the register. She then moved toward the end of the counter where she would retrieve her drink.

Maria then looked up to greet the next customer. T'Pol's ears perked up when a male voice replied with his order. She noted the familiar twang of an accent she had often associated with Trip. Her heart raced and she wondered if he had at last returned and had, by coincidence, come to the same coffee shop she visited regularly.

_He isn't the only one who has that accent. Many Humans speak with a similar inflection, _her logical self chided.

But still, her heart thumped against the walls of her chest. Unable to stop herself, she turned toward the man. The image before her eyes caused her heart to sink in disappointment. The man was a stranger. His hair was a dark brown in contrast with Trip's blond locks. Moreover, the man's hair curled at his nape, grown to a length Trip had often expressed his displeasure for. Additionally, the man's features were sharper and cleaner than Trip's, making the man altogether more intimidating than her Trip.

Suddenly, he turned toward her and their gazes locked. At first, his features contorted in a mixture of shock and a kinder emotion, one of awe. A nervous smile slid over his lips and T'Pol dropped her gaze from his. She heard the clink of chits dropping into a glass jar and she looked up to find him moving toward her.

The man chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say I had a stalker."

T'Pol arched an eyebrow. "I don't believe 'stalker' would be an accurate term as that would imply you have seen me in too many locations over too long a period for it to be mere coincidence."

As she spoke, she had the most peculiar feeling of knowing this man intimately—beyond the bounds of a common association. She studied the man's features more closely, but was still unable to understand why she felt such a connection to an absolute stranger.

That nervous smile crossed his lips again and she could see by the way he was worrying the inside of his cheek that he found her gaze to be uncomfortable. She glanced away and wrung her hands in embarrassment.

"I apologize if my behavior discomforts you," she said. "You remind me very much of a man I once knew."

The man chuckled. "Now there's a new one. I'm not sure I've ever heard a Vulcan give an apology for anything before."

His reference to the stereotypical beliefs in regards to her people caused her to stand ramrod straight.

The man grimaced. "I guess I owe _you_ an apology now. No matter how many Vulcan friends I have who prove me wrong, I suppose I still tend to think all Vulcans are the same."

She nodded in acknowledgement of his apology, but remained silent.

He sighed. "Look, we started off on the wrong foot. Can we start over?" He extended his hand. "I'm Charlie Kilby."

She grasped his extended hand. "I am T'Pol."

He smiled. "A pleasure." He then bent and kissed her hand in a way very reminiscent of an act performed by Human knights over a millennium ago. Her cheeks flushed. _It is illogical to derive such pleasure from such an act,_ her logical self chastised. However, this did nothing to decrease the heat his act flared in her most secret places.

"Venti, non-fat, decaffeinated iced café mocha with whipped cream for T'Pol," the barista called out, setting the drink toward the edge of the counter for her to retrieve. She plucked a straw from the basket on the counter and tore the paper from it with agile fingers before poking it through the small opening at the top. She took a small sip from the drink and her eyebrows arched high, signaling that the taste pleased her.

The man's smile widened as he watched her consume her drink with increasing enthusiasm.

"Coffee for Charlie," the barista called.

He then moved forward to claim his drink. T'Pol halted her tasting of her drink and arched a curious eyebrow.

He shrugged. "I never have liked all the fancy mixes they make. Good, strong coffee clears my mind better than anything else I know."

T'Pol frowned. The man's philosophy on coffee was very similar to Trip's. As she was about to reply, one of the barista's tapped the man on the shoulder. He turned, offering her a genuine smile. She then slipped a napkin into his hand.

"Call me," she said with a wink.

Charlie's smile remained kind. He nodded, but said nothing. T'Pol then turned and moved to exit the coffee shop. Charlie said goodbye to the barista and thanked her for his drink before darting out after T'Pol.

He looked left and right, then noting her standing near a crosswalk. He hurried to catch up with her. At last, he came to a halt beside her. She turned.

"Aqua. Noon," he said. She opened her mouth to protest. "I won't take no for an answer." She paused for a moment, then nodding in reply. He smiled. "Great. See you there, darlin'."

He then turned and strode quickly in the opposite direction, crossing the street in front of a series of high-rise buildings that T'Pol recognized as belonging to Lexicon, Inc., a prestigious hovercar insurance firm.

Her brow furrowed in thought. She had been tempted to refuse the offer. She needn't embarrass herself further in front of this man; and yet, she felt compelled to delve further into her feelings of familiarity, to learn why she was so at ease with this man. A meal would provide just such an opportunity.

The light across the street signaled for her to stride toward the other side. She stepped onto the asphalt streets, her mind abuzz with questions to ask her mealtime companion.


	4. Three

"There's every way of knowing. Look, I can guarantee you that we're not going to lose touch." ~Trip Tucker from _These Are The Voyages_

_

* * *

_

**THREE**

Valdore stared hard at Eveiss, scarcely able to contain his anger. She'd failed. There were no words to describe the dishonor she'd brought to them both in doing so.

The normally collected young woman fidgeted slightly under Valdore's intense gaze. Her failure would ultimately mean dismissal, exile, or even death.

"I was certain that he was dead, sir," she argued feebly.

Valdore snorted. "You call 'no remains' dead? He's obviously alive and well, Eveiss. He ran from the scene intact and functioning. Our own Starfleet spy witnessed it!" His eyes narrowed. "You failed your mission. Were it up to me I'd suspend you from the Fire Cliffs of Lan-goosh!" Eveiss winced. "However, the decision is not mine. The Senate will determine your sentence."

Valdore motioned to the guard, who them grasped Eveiss's arm tightly. "You are restricted to your quarters until the Senate has had time to debate the matter. Dismissed."

The guard led her from the chambers and back to her quarters. It was then that she began formulating her escape.

T'Pol turned the corner of California Street, then striding down the sidewalk until she found the correct street address. T'Pol had relayed the tale of the incident to Marcie in hopes that the young woman knew the location of the restaurant. Marcie had been, if possible, even more excited about the encounter than T'Pol herself.

"You met him at Phoebe's? Oh, how romantic! Just like that cute coffee shop scene between Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in _You've Got Mail_!" she'd gushed.

Despite the younger woman's romantic notions, the matter was strictly one of business for T'Pol. She had accepted purely on the basis of laying to rest her illogical feelings.

Those illogical feelings took over again as she stood outside of Aqua. She closed her eyes in an attempt to push the feelings aside. It wouldn't do for her allow her feelings to control the direction of the encounter. This could lead to false confirmation of her hopes and such a thing would ultimately prove humiliating.

T'Pol wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She still disliked how large a part of her life those accessed emotions had become. Yet, she had no choice but to accept them. They were with her for the remainder of her life.

She grasped the handle and pulled the door open only to be nearly knocked to the ground by a large crowd of people exiting the establishment. However, she managed to retain her balance. She then entered the restaurant, using the glass door to check her reflection and straighten her hair and blouse.

_Another human habit you've picked up,_ her logical side chided. _You've all but become one of them._

T'Pol immediately ceased the illogical behavior, her cheeks flushing slightly at her own foolish behavior. There was no reason to worry over her appearance. This lunch meeting was purely business.

She approached the hostess, an energetic young woman who smiled kindly.

"Table for one?" she asked.

T'Pol paused. "I am to meet someone. Charlie Kilby—"

The hostess's smile widened. "Oh, yes. Right this way, ma'am."

The hostess maneuvered her way toward a private area at the back of the establishment. T'Pol arched an eyebrow. Charlie was certainly going to great lengths for a simple lunch meeting.

'_It might mean more than that to him_,_' _her not-so-logical half chimed.

'_But it does not to us,' _her logical half retorted.

He stood immediately and moved toward the chair across from him, then pulled it out. She slid into the chair and nodded her appreciation. He pushed it back in slightly. His hand grazed her shoulder as he returned to his seat and she shivered. The touch was so familiar.

She'd spent countless nights following her and Trip's first sexual encounter memorizing his touch. So gentle and so loving that it could never be anyone else. That touch haunted her dreams, sliding over her bare skin ever so slightly, and yet it ignited a red-hot fire inside of her nearly matching the sensations of the blood fever.

Her gaze locked with his as he slid into the chair. He froze. Blood rushed in her ears. Deep blue eyes. Gorgeous deep blue eyes. Trip's gorgeous deep blue eyes. Her breath hitched.

"Can I get you something to drink, ma'am?"

T'Pol started and turned to find a waitress standing beside the table, smiling broadly.

"Coffee, black," T'Pol managed.

The waitress wrote the request down on the pad of paper and hurried off to the kitchen to fetch it.

Charlie chuckled. "You really like your coffee, don't you?"

T'Pol arched an eyebrow. "It has an agreeable flavor."

Charlie's eyebrows shot up. "Black? It isn't too strong for you?"

"No," she replied deadpan.

Again, he chuckled.

The waitress returned with T'Pol's coffee and then proceeded to take their orders. She smiled as she wrote both down.

"So I have one serving of fried catfish with a side of string beans for you, Mr. Kilby, and a full serving of spinach Caesar salad for the lady," the waitress confirmed. She then picked up their menus and turned to T'Pol. "Would you like the salad first or at the same time as Mr. Kilby's meal?"

"Simultaneously, please," T'Pol replied.

The waitress smiled and nodded, then striding toward the kitchen. T'Pol turned toward Charlie and arched an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that fried catfish with string beans was an entrée at this establishment."

Charlie grinned. "It's not. But they'll make whatever I'm in the mood for."

T'Pol nodded. "Considering your loyal patronage, I'm sure."

Charlie arched an eyebrow and laughed. "Yeah, I suppose you could say that. Mostly, its Tanya's doing though. I loaned her some money to pay her rent when she was down on her luck and then helped her get a job here."

T'Pol tilted her head slightly. "That was generous of you."

Charlie frowned. "There isn't anything going on between us if that's what you're thinkin'. I was underprivileged once upon a time. I was just helpin' her get the leg up that I almost didn't get."

T'Pol couldn't help but stare at him. Again, he reminded her of Trip. There were so many similarities that she had almost succeeded in convincing herself that this man was Trip, hiding behind a different face to conceal himself from someone. But who? Was it possible someone had discovered who he really was?

Charlie shifted in his seat and his obvious discomfort snapped T'Pol from her thoughts. Her gaze dropped to her hands.

"I apologize," she said. "I—you remind me a great deal of someone I once knew."

Charlie nodded. "That's what you were saying in the coffee shop," he said. He laid a hand gently on top of hers, his gaze empathetic. "What happened to him?"

T'Pol's gaze met his and she arched an eyebrow. "How are you so certain I speak of a man?"

Charlie smiled wanly. "Coffee shop." Her cheeks flushed green and she nodded in acknowledgement. "So what happened to him? Was he a soldier?"

T'Pol paused. "Yes, he was. He was called away on a classified mission over a year ago. I have not heard from him since our last night together."

Charlie nodded. "I was a soldier once, too. Special Forces."

T'Pol's gaze locked with his. "Perhaps you served with him."

"What's his name?" Charlie asked.

"Charles," she whispered.

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah, I knew a couple guys who went by Charles."

T'Pol paused. "His birthplace is Panama City, Florida."

Charlie's brow furrowed in contemplation. "Hmm. I don't think I served with him personally."

_I'm sorry, T'Pol_. He wanted so much to tell her who he really was. It was breaking his heart to watch the hope drain from her eyes.

A tense silence floated in and surrounded them like a thick fog. The silence was broken only when the waitress approached with their meals. She sat the plates down in front of them.

"If you need anything else, let me know," she said with a smile before turning to head back to the kitchen.

Charlie dug into his meal enthusiastically, cutting his fried catfish into bite-sized pieces before dipping one of those pieces into the tartar sauce, striving for just the right amount of it on each piece. She watched his methodical eating curiously, her plate untouched. She wondered if this wasn't a consequence of his military service. She recalled developing a similar eating pattern after she'd left the Security Ministry and again following the difficulties in the Expanse.

Trip had enjoyed teasing her about her need for order. If he had only known why she needed such control, he probably would not have done so. Watching this man strive to control some aspect of his life, she surmised that whatever he'd gone through during his service equaled or exceeded the stress of her experiences in the Expanse.

"Where did you serve?" she asked.

Charlie's gaze locked with hers and she could see the loss and pain in his eyes. Her breath caught at the volume of emotion he portrayed simply with his gaze. She thought back to when she'd felt anything similar and the first memory that came to mind was Trip's "death".

"I served with the fleet that was assigned to assault Romulus itself," he replied at last, his voice soft and gravelly.

She laid her hand on top of his in gesture of support and comfort, a gesture that had often soothed Trip in such moments. "We do not need to discuss it if you do not wish to," she whispered.

Charlie shook his head. "It's all right, darlin'. It's not so difficult now," he countered. He paused. "A lot of good men were lost that day. I was an inside man, altered to look like one of them. I was supposed to give our side the codes to get inside; but something went wrong. The Romulans changed the facility codes just after I gave them to the fleet." His gaze grew misty at the memory. "The Romulans killed every last one of them. There were bodies everywhere. But I had to pretend I was pleased they'd been cut down." He swallowed roughly. "It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

T'Pol brought her other hand up to cup his cheek. Another Human gesture of comfort that she'd found soothed the hurts Trip had experienced. He smiled wanly and grasped her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

"You should eat your lunch, T'Pol," Charlie said. "Before it gets cold."

T'Pol's gaze dropped to her salad and she arched an eyebrow. At last realizing that that was his way of closing the subject, she nodded and pulled her hands away, then reached for a fork. She speared several lettuce pieces and guided the fork to her lips.

The two ate in silence, occasionally sneaking glances at one another only to turn away when the other noticed their gaze. This back and forth continued until each had finished their meal.

She dabbed her napkin to her lips as the waitress, Tanya, arrived with a PADD containing the bill.

Charlie smiled and handed her his credit chip. She then inserted it into the slot at the bottom of the PADD and entered a series of commands. She then held the PADD out for him so that he could sign it.

Tanya smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Kilby, and have a good day." She then returned to the kitchen.

"Ready?" Charlie asked.

T'Pol nodded and stood, laying her napkin beside her empty plate.

Charlie stood as well and the two walked toward the exit. He laid a hand gently at the small of her back and T'Pol arched an eyebrow, but made no move away from his touch.

The young hostess smiled. "Have an excellent day, Mr. Kilby."

Charlie grinned. "You, too, Alice."

Charlie chuckled, then opened one of the glass doors for T'Pol, allowing her to step through first. Horns from the street blared as she stepped from the establishment. She made to continue walking, but Charlie gripped her arm gently. She turned toward him.

"I want to see you again," he said.

She nodded. "I wish to be in your company again as well."

"Coffee?" he suggested.

She nodded. "Phoebe's?"

He grinned. "Sounds good. After work? 7?"

"I will be there," she replied.

Their gazes locked and a curious sensation rushed through her, causing her to shiver. They leaned toward one another until their lips were mere millimeters apart. He intended to kiss her.

She shouldn't allow him such a liberty, her logical mind chastised. He was a perfect stranger to her.

_No_, her heart whispered, _he's Trip._

Before her logical mind could protest again, his lips covered hers in a timid kiss. He pulled away slightly before returning for a fuller kiss. It was gentle, and yet his lips moved against hers as though he was a man dying of thirst and she was the oasis that would quench it.

When at last he pulled away, both were breathing heavily. The tip of his tongue snuck out to moisten his lips and she resisted the urge to pull his head down to hers.

"See ya at 7?" he said hoarsely.

She simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She watched him dart across the lanes of traffic and turn a corner. She then made her way back toward Starfleet Headquarters.


	5. Four Teen

"There's every way of knowing. Look, I can guarantee you that we're not going to lose touch." ~Trip Tucker from _These Are The Voyages_

_

* * *

_

**FOUR**

T'Pol sat down at a small booth near the window, a warm latte in her hands. She stared out the window for several moments before turning to glance at the digital clock that hung on the wall behind the counter. 7:10. He was running late. She turned back toward the window, watching as darkness enveloped the environment.

Street lights flickered on and lit up the streets. Traffic flow had slowed a great deal and the roads were dotted only with hovertaxis and the occasional hovercar. The people traffic had decreased as well, with businessmen and women being among the few left, no doubt having remained at work late, as she had.

It was at that moment that the door to the small café opened and the little bell above the door tinkled, acknowledging the person's entrance. T'Pol's gaze snapped toward the door to find a harassed Charlie standing just inside the door smiling sheepishly with a hand behind his back.

He hurried toward her and dropped a quick kiss on her lips.

"Sorry I'm late," he said breathlessly. "My meeting ran a little longer than expected."

Before she could reply, he pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal a dozen brilliant red roses in full bloom.

T'Pol's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"They're most aesthetically pleasing," she said, taking the bundle from him. "Thank you."

He chuckled. "Aesthetically pleasing?"

Her gaze locked with his. "They're beautiful," she conceded.

He grinned. "Not as beautiful as you are," he whispered.

Their gazes locked, stirring a desire deep within her that she hadn't felt since her and Trip's first sexual encounter. The strength of her desire surprised her. She'd never thought she'd experience love again, much less the familiar craving of flesh against flesh in a mating frenzy.

The subtle deepening of his breathing told her that he was experiencing a similar reaction to her. Her cheeks flushed an olive green as she saw the pure longing in his gaze.

She was taken back in time to the moment after Trip and she had all but confessed their love for one another. No one had ever looked at her that way before. Behind the yearning in his gaze was a love so powerful it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

He cleared his throat. "I I'm goin' ta get myself some coffee."

He turned, breaking the spell. He then moved toward the counter to order.

T'Pol stared after him, her mind working at whirlwind speed to make sense of everything she was feeling. Her cheeks flushed as she realized how the night would end. She wished she'd been able to anticipate this so that she could have brought a change of clothing for tomorrow.

She started when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see him standing in front of her, his gaze burning with need.

"My place?" he whispered roughly.

She nodded and stood, moving toward the exit. After one last gulp of her coffee, she tossed the nearly-empty cup into the receptacle and left the coffee shop with Charlie following close behind.

_**LATER…**_

She brought her hand to his face and placed her fingers at the pressure points before he could react. Frustrated, she drove him closer to the brink.

He cried out like a man being tortured. "T'Pol," he choked. "Don't! I'm so close. If you keep doing that, I won't last."

Ignoring his pleas, she continued her movements and soon stole the last of his control. His eyes slammed shut and he lost it. In those moments when his guard was down, he was vulnerable. The secret that he'd had no intention of divulging came spilling forth in the form of memories. As a result of their meld, T'Pol saw everything in a rush of images.

The sensations faded and T'Pol dropped her hand, staring at the man above her in complete shock. Trip was alive. His eyes fluttered open and locked with hers in time to see the seething anger in her eyes. "T'Pol, let me explain," he began.

She ignored his plea and shoved him angrily aside, jumping from the bed and redressing. Her shirt torn, she used her jacket to cover her naked breasts. Without another word, she bolted from the bedroom and then from his residence with him calling after her.

Despite knowing it was unwise to wander the streets alone at this late hour, she exited the apartment building and strode hurriedly down the sidewalk toward her own apartment. In a moment of weakness, emotion had overridden logic. The hurt was so deep that she had needed to escape to regain control.

Her logical side was beginning to reassert itself and was allowing her to properly reflect on the situation. It was entirely plausible that he had been discovered by the Romulans and they knew his true identity. If this was the case, it was also logical to assume that he had prevaricated to protect her. Now that she was aware of his true identity, she was likely to be a target for interrogation.

Her cheeks flushed as she realized her error. Trip would never intentionally hurt her. If he had misrepresented the truth to her, he'd had at least a reasonable suspicion that the Romulans would come after her. Shame and regret replaced her anger. She paused, attempting to decide what the most logical course of action would be. She concluded that, no matter how uncomfortable the confrontation would be, she should return to Trip's apartment, most especially given how far of a walk it was to her own residence.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed in the alleyway and a voice muttered a soft string of curses. She turned to find Trip standing up and brushing himself off. He froze when he saw her staring straight at him. "Now before you get upset, let me explain. I wanted to be sure you got home okay. I'm sorry I had to lie to you. There were so many times I wanted to tell you everything, but I could risk it.

T'Pol nodded. "I reached a similar conclusion. I apologize for my rash actions."

He closed the remaining distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. "It's okay. God I missed you," he whispered into her ear. "You're all I thought about while I was away."

The coolness of his touch caused her to shudder. She returned the embrace, longing to be tangled with him beneath the bedsheets. She pulled back reluctantly from the embrace and sought his lips with hers. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the desire and heat. Initially, she had avoided the Human behavior, but now she indulged it regularly. The taste and feel of his kiss was so addictive. She could kiss him forever.

In an instant, the pressure of his lips was gone and she felt something solid at her throat pulling her away. She struggled at first, but froze when she felt something touch her temple. Her heart raced at the sound of an energy weapon being charged. Her gaze flew to Trip and she felt his panic through their bond.

'_Don't do anything rash,' _she pleaded, recalling her most recent nightmare.

Trip froze and she could see in his gaze that he'd heard and understood her warning. They stood there for several moments, none of them daring to move. T'Pol took this time to assess her enemy. The breast pressing into her back indicated her attacker was a woman. Based on the angle of the arm holding her, the woman was taller than her, though not by a great deal. The warmth of the woman's body through her clothing also indicated that her attacker wasn't human.

"You know why I'm here, Commander Tucker," the woman hissed.

Trip's lips tightened and he nodded. "Let her go, Eveiss. I'll do whatever you want. Just let her go."

Two men stepped from the shadows and took their place at Eveiss's side, pointing their disruptors at Trip. T'Pol grimaced. This foiled any thoughts she'd entertained of escape. Had the men not pointed weapons at Trip, she could have dispensed the trio easily. Now with Trip's life in danger, she couldn't risk one of the men remaining conscious long enough to discharge the weapon.

The men looked Human, but Trip wasn't fooled. No doubt they'd undergone a similar procedure to his to blend in. He had only recognized Eveiss by her voice.

"Do you truly think I'm foolish enough to trust you?" she queried, chuckling. "No. You will come to me and only once you are safely aboard our craft will we release your mate."

Trip's lips tightened and his gaze narrowed. "How do I know I can trust you to let her go?"

Eveiss smirked. "You don't have a choice. If you don't do as I say, then we will kill her. It's that simple."

A plain black hovervan screeched to a halt behind her. T'Pol took advantage of the distraction to attempt escape, hoping that she would be able to knock the three unconscious before any of them could react. She swung her fist backwards, striking Eveiss hard in the nose and delivering a kick to her. It took all of Trip's willpower not to rush the group as the two men forced a still struggling T'Pol into the hovervan. Once the doors were closed, Eveiss tossed Trip a small hand-held device. He caught it and glanced down at it. A communicator.

"We'll contact you with further instruction once she has been secured," Eveiss added. "No law enforcement and no Starfleet. Come alone or she dies."

The woman jumped into the front passenger seat, slamming the door closed, and the hovervan sped into the night.

Trip arrived at his apartment a short time later, his lips pressed tightly together in frustration. He grunted in anger, slamming his balled up fists hard into the wall. The force of the strike knocked down the large rectangular mirror hanging nearby. It fell to the floor and shattered into hundred of pointed pieces. He caught his reflection in a splinter of glass and grimaced.

His attempts to communicate with her through their bond had thus far failed, which only served to increase his anxiety. He now had no way of determining if they were harming her and less of a chance of finding her without help. It was a possibility that her captors knew about their bond and had given her some drug to suppress activity in that region of her brain.

If there was one thing his year amongst the Romulans had taught him it was that you don't wait for the predator to come to you, you go to him. You're more likely to win the war if that meeting is on your terms.

"Time to call in some old favors," he muttered.


	6. Four Mature

"There's every way of knowing. Look, I can guarantee you that we're not going to lose touch." ~Trip Tucker from _These Are The Voyages_

_

* * *

_

**FOUR (Mature)**

T'Pol sat down at a small booth near the window, a warm latte in her hands. She stared out the window for several moments before turning to glance at the digital clock that hung on the wall behind the counter. 7:10. He was running late. She turned back toward the window, watching as darkness enveloped the environment.

Street lights flickered on and lit up the streets. Traffic flow had slowed a great deal and the roads were dotted only with hovertaxis and the occasional hovercar. The people traffic had decreased as well, with businessmen and women being among the few left, no doubt having remained at work late, as she had.

It was at that moment that the door to the small café opened and the little bell above the door tinkled, acknowledging the person's entrance. T'Pol's gaze snapped toward the door to find a harassed Charlie standing just inside the door smiling sheepishly with a hand behind his back.

He hurried toward her and dropped a quick kiss on her lips.

"Sorry I'm late," he said breathlessly. "My meeting ran a little longer than expected."

Before she could reply, he pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal a dozen brilliant red roses in full bloom.

T'Pol's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "They're most aesthetically pleasing," she said, taking the bundle from him. "Thank you."

He chuckled. "Aesthetically pleasing?"

Her gaze locked with his. "They're beautiful," she conceded.

He grinned. "Not as beautiful as you are," he whispered.

Their gazes locked, stirring a desire deep within her that she hadn't felt since her and Trip's first sexual encounter. The strength of her desire surprised her. She'd never thought she'd experience love again, much less the familiar craving of flesh against flesh in a mating frenzy.

The subtle deepening of his breathing told her that he was experiencing a similar reaction to her. Her cheeks flushed an olive green as she saw the pure longing in his gaze.

She was taken back in time to the moment after Trip and she had all but confessed their love for one another. No one had ever looked at her that way before. Behind the yearning in his gaze was a love so powerful it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

He cleared his throat. "I—I'm going to get myself some coffee."

He turned, breaking the spell. He then moved toward the counter to order.

T'Pol stared after him, her mind working at whirlwind speed to make sense of everything she was feeling. Her cheeks flushed as she realized how the night would end. She wished she'd been able to anticipate this so that she could have brought a change of clothing for tomorrow.

She started when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see him standing in front of her, his gaze burning with need.

"My place?" he whispered roughly.

She nodded and stood, moving toward the exit. After one last gulp of her coffee, she tossed the nearly-empty cup into the receptacle and left the coffee shop with Charlie following close behind.

At last, they reached his apartment. He keyed in the entry code, his hands shaking as he did so. The moment they crossed the threshold, their lips met in a fervor. T'Pol shivered as heat flared in her most secret places. At that moment, her logical mind reasserted itself. She pulled back and released a shuddering breath.

She felt his hand on her shoulder and looked up to see his brows furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't do this."

He frowned. "What? Sex?"

She shook her head. "I don't have intercourse with men I barely know."

He smiled. "I don't exactly make a habit of it with women either."

She hesitated a moment more before again pressing her lips to his. He groaned softly, his fingers digging into the warm, soft skin of her hips. This time, it was him who broke the kiss.

"Are you sure you want to do this? If it's too fast…" He gasped sharply when she squeezed the cheeks of his ass in her small hands. "If you want me to stop, tell me now. If I don't stop now, I may not be able to."

She had his jacket and shirt off before he could say another word. The tips of her fingers traced intimate patterns across the bare skin of his chest and hunger replaced the uncertainty in her gaze.

A sharp pleasure shot south to his groin as he saw his own desire reflected in her eyes. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensations. His lips parted in a wordless cry of pleasure when she reached a particularly sensitive spot. His hips jerked in reaction to her touch.

"Oh Lord have mercy," he growled. "You're going to kill me right here."

T'Pol arched a curious eyebrow, exploring the spot that had evoked the reaction with more zeal.

His hand flew to the wall as he struggled to remain standing. Her onslaught continued and he threw his head back, sobbing in pleasure. His entire body tensed up and he knew the warning signs well by now. He grabbed her hand and jerked it away.

She frowned. "Did I do something improper?"

He shook his head, gasping for breath. "No, no. I just…It's been a long time for me and…that spot is really sensitive."

Their gazes locked and for just a moment, she was taken back to her first encounter with Trip. She mentally banished the memory from her thoughts. It wasn't appropriate to think of another man during sexual relations.

"Perhaps we should move toward the sleeping area," she suggested, deliberately dropping her voice a couple octaves.

The darkening of his gaze indicated her actions had achieved the desired result. Before she could react, he swept her off the ground and into his arms, carrying her toward the bedroom.

He stumbled into the secluded little room, his lips never leaving hers as he laid her down on the soft, snug bed. He pulled back to fumble with the tiny buttons of her conservative peach blouse, at last tearing it open in frustration. Buttons flew in every direction and he chuckled as he pulled the fabric apart. To his surprise, she wore nothing underneath. His nostrils flared in arousal and he then bent to take one pert little nipple into his mouth.

She gasped and her hands gripped the back of his head pleading for more as his cool tongue sent heated sensations through every nerve ending in her body.

"Please," she whispered, begging unashamedly.

He stared into her eyes, his heart racing at the memory of making love to her for the first time. He shuddered. Without another moment's pause, he pressed his lips to hers as if to devour her. It seemed another lifetime ago that he'd held her, promising her forever.

His heart ached at the knowledge of having her so close, but being unable to keep his promise. They were still after him and as long as they still hunted him, T'Pol couldn't know anything. Her ignorance would keep her alive. That didn't mean he couldn't be with her as Charlie Kirby. At least that would give him a reason to continue the charade.

"What is wrong?" T'Pol asked, snapping him from his reverie.

He smiled. "Nothing. You're just so beautiful. You drive me wild."

_Nice save_, he thought to himself. A smirk of satisfaction crossed his lips at the slight flush that lit her cheeks.

Any concern T'Pol might have had over Charlie's mental state flew out the window as the compliment fueled the already raging fire between her legs. She leaned forward, taking his earlobe between her teeth and nibbled carefully.

He groaned when he felt her warm breath tickle his ear and bucked sharply at the painful, yet arousing sensations her teeth caused.

"Ohhh," he crooned, thrusting against her thigh. His eyes rolled back and his eyelids slammed instinctively shut at the overwhelming fire racing along his nerve endings. The heat went straight to his groin and his cock throbbed with want. His breaths came out in sharp pants and he whimpered. "Want to be in you, darlin'…want you so much."

"Then take me," she whispered.

He grunted in annoyance as he climbed off the bed and hurriedly removed his remaining clothing and enthusiastically jumped back onto the bed to remove her bottoms. His breath caught at the sight of her skin glowing in the dim light. He'd wanted to take his time, but his body demanded immediate gratification.

A careful probing of her opening revealed her to be soaking wet. A choked sound somewhere between a groan and a growl passed his lips and he lined his cock up with her entrance. His gaze locked with hers. There was no mistaking the plea in her eyes. Without a second thought, he sank all of the way into her welcoming sheath and his eyes rolled back at the pleasurable sensations.

The bliss was beyond anything she had ever imagined. She cried out in surprise and whimpered in disappointment when he didn't move. The urge was so strong now that she couldn't resist it. She brought her hand to his face and placed her fingers at the pressure points before he could react. With her orgasm so close, the sensations were stealing her sanity. Still, Charlie wouldn't move. Growing impatient, she drew back slightly and thrust her hips forward, slamming her sheath down hard on his cock.

He cried out like a man being tortured. "T'Pol," he choked. "Don't! I'm so close. If you keep doing that, I won't last."

Ignoring his command, she repeated the action. This time it achieved the desired result. An animalistic growl slipped past his lips as he jerked into her hard and fucked her in short, rough movements. It wasn't long before T'Pol contracted around him, her heart skipping a beat as the storm of sensation frazzled her nerve endings and overloaded her senses. She could swear she was glimpsing what Humans called heaven. Four thrusts later, his eyes slammed shut and his mouth hung open as his orgasm hit him with the force of a starship jumping suddenly to warp five. In those moments when his guard was down, he was vulnerable. The secret that he'd had no intention of divulging came spilling forth in the form of memories. As a result of their meld, T'Pol saw everything in a rush of images.

The sensations faded and T'Pol dropped her hand, staring at the man above her in complete shock. Trip was alive. His eyes fluttered open and locked with hers in time to see the seething anger in her gaze. "T'Pol, let me explain," he began.

She ignored his plea and shoved him angrily aside, jumping from the bed and redressing. Her shirt torn, she used her jacket to cover her naked breasts. Without another word, she bolted from the bedroom and then from his residence with him calling after her.

Despite knowing it was unwise to wander the streets alone at this late hour, she exited the apartment building and strode hurriedly down the sidewalk toward her own apartment. In a moment of weakness, emotion had overridden logic. The hurt was so deep that she had needed to escape to regain control.

Her logical side was beginning to reassert itself and was allowing her to properly reflect on the situation. It was entirely plausible that he had been discovered by the Romulans and they knew his true identity. If this was the case, it was also logical to assume that he had prevaricated to protect her. Now that she was aware of his true identity, she was likely to be a target for interrogation.

Her cheeks flushed as she realized her error. Trip would never intentionally hurt her. If he had misrepresented the truth to her, he'd had at least a reasonable suspicion that the Romulans would come after her. Shame and regret replaced her anger. She paused, attempting to decide what the most logical course of action would be. She concluded that, no matter how uncomfortable the confrontation would be, she should return to Trip's apartment, most especially given how far of a walk it was to her own residence.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed in the alleyway and a voice muttered a soft string of curses. She turned to find Trip standing up and brushing himself off. He froze when he saw her staring straight at him. "Now before you get upset, let me explain. I wanted to be sure you got home okay. I'm sorry I had to lie to you. There were so many times I wanted to tell you everything, but I couldn't risk it."

T'Pol nodded. "I reached a similar conclusion. I apologize for my rash actions."

He closed the remaining distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. "It's okay. God I missed you," he whispered into her ear. "You're all I thought about while I was away."

The coolness of his touch caused her to shudder. She returned the embrace, longing to be tangled with him beneath the bed sheets. She pulled back reluctantly from the embrace and sought his lips with hers. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the desire and heat. Initially, she had avoided the Human behavior, but now she indulged it regularly. The taste and feel of his kiss was so addictive. She could kiss him forever.

In an instant, the pressure of his lips was gone and she felt something solid at her throat pulling her away. She struggled at first, but froze when she felt something ice cold pressed against her temple. Her heart raced at the sound of an energy weapon being charged. Her gaze flew to Trip and she felt his panic through their bond.

'_Don't do anything rash,' _she pleaded, recalling her most recent nightmare.

Trip froze and she could see in his gaze that he'd heard and understood her warning. They stood there for several moments, none of them daring to move. T'Pol took this time to assess her enemy. The breasts pressing into her back indicated her attacker was a woman. Based on the angle of the arm holding her, the woman was taller than her, though not by a great deal. The warmth of the woman's body through her clothing also indicated that her attacker wasn't human.

"You know why I'm here, Commander Tucker," the woman hissed.

Trip's lips tightened and he nodded. "Let her go, Eveiss. I'll do whatever you want. Just let her go."

Two men stepped from the shadows and took their place at Eveiss's side, pointing their disruptors at Trip. T'Pol grimaced. This foiled any thoughts she'd entertained of escape. Had the men not pointed weapons at Trip, she could have dispensed the trio easily. Now with Trip's life in danger, she couldn't risk one of the men remaining conscious long enough to discharge the weapon.

The men looked Human, but Trip wasn't fooled. No doubt they'd undergone a similar procedure to his to blend in. He had only recognized Eveiss by her voice.

"Do you truly think I'm foolish enough to trust you?" she queried, chuckling. "No. You will come to me and only once you are safely aboard our craft will we release your mate."

Trip's lips tightened and his gaze narrowed. "How do I know I can trust you to let her go?"

Eveiss smirked. "You don't have a choice. If you don't do as I say, then we will kill her. It's that simple."

A plain black hovervan screeched to a halt behind her. T'Pol took advantage of the distraction to attempt escape, hoping that she would be able to knock the three unconscious before any of them could react. She swung her fist backwards, striking Eveiss hard in the nose and delivering a kick to her. It took all of Trip's willpower not to rush the group as the two men forced a still struggling T'Pol into the hovervan. Once the doors were closed, Eveiss tossed Trip a small hand-held device. He caught it and glanced down at it. A communicator.

"We'll contact you with further instructions once she has been secured," Eveiss added. "No law enforcement and no Starfleet. Come alone or she dies."

The woman jumped into the front passenger seat, slamming the door closed, and the hovervan sped into the night.

Trip arrived at his apartment a short time later, his lips pressed tightly together in frustration. He grunted in anger, slamming his balled up fists hard into the wall. The force of the strike knocked down the large rectangular mirror hanging nearby. It fell to the floor and shattered into hundreds of pointed pieces. He caught his reflection in a splinter of glass and grimaced.

His attempts to communicate with her through their bond had thus far failed, which only served to increase his anxiety. He now had no way of determining if they were harming her and less of a chance of finding her without help. It was a possibility that her captors knew about their bond and had given her some drug to suppress activity in that region of her brain.

If there was one thing his year amongst the Romulans had taught him it was that you don't wait for the predator to come to you, you go to him. You're more likely to win the war if that meeting is on your terms.

"Time to call in some old favors," he muttered.


	7. Five

"There's every way of knowing. Look, I can guarantee you that we're not going to lose touch." ~Trip Tucker from _These Are The Voyages_

_

* * *

_

**FIVE**

Lee stared at him, his eyes wide. "What happened to laying low?"

Trip sighed. "It's a long story…one I haven't got time for. Needless to say, they've got my girl and I can't just sit here doing nothing. Please, Lee."

A smile slid across the Asian man's lips. "She must be quite a catch."

"She is," Trip replied with a grin.

"It's about time somebody took these bastards out. I'll meet you at your place and we can leave from there."

Trip shook his head. "I'm doing this alone. I can't risk anybody else on this. Besides, if I don't come alone they'll kill her."

"Are you out of your mind? They'll kill you the moment you set foot on that ship!"

"I know," Trip said. "And it's a risk I'm willing to take."

Lee's lips thinned and he turned his attention away from the monitor for a moment. "Here are three of the locations that have seen the most activity recently. This warehouse on the old San Francisco wharf…we believe that it may be their base of operations."

Trip nodded. "That's a start. Are there any schematics available on the layout?"

Again, Lee gazed away for a moment. His gaze then returned to meet Trip's. "We have a partial, but a lot of our information was lost in a recent system hack."

Trip's brows furrowed. "System hack? What were they looking for?"

Lee grinned wryly. "We traced the hack to the personnel files."

Trip's gaze narrowed in frustration. "Why in the hell wasn't I informed?"

"We thought we'd stopped them before they got that far so the Director insisted we keep it quiet."

"That's a piss poor excuse and he knows it," Trip muttered. _Damn Starfleet bureaucrats._ He sighed. "Thanks, Lee."

The Asian man nodded. "Be careful, Trip."

The screen of the communication device went black and he slid it into the hidden pocket of his jacket. He grunted in annoyance as his slight headache became a blinding migraine. He closed his eyes to block out the street lights, which were only serving to exacerbate the pain.

_Suddenly, he found himself in an enclosed room with a very high ceiling and no windows. He took in his surroundings, focusing on the sky light most of all, through which the moon shone and provided the only source of light. He turned sharply at the sound of someone shouting at him, but everything went black before he could see who it was._

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying flat on the cold sidewalk. He winced as the bump on his forehead throbbed. He paused, replaying the images in his mind. In the memories, he'd caught a glance at a pointed ear in the reflection in a nearby window, leading him to believe that T'Pol was somehow telling him where she was. Given that only one of the three locations Lee had indicated was a warehouse, it seemed he was on the right track.

He dragged himself to standing position and once the dizziness had faded, he took off at a sprint, following the map on the PADD toward the old San Francisco wharf.

He brought the binoculars up to his eyes and scanned the immediate area, then widening his search. The wharf certainly wasn't very heavily guarded considering that it was their main base of operations. He paused for a moment. If this wasn't the right location, he risked revealing himself and possibly ruining any chance of saving T'Pol. He grunted in irritation and tossed the binoculars aside. The differences between Vulcan and Romulan physiology were so acute that it would take much more advanced equipment than he had at his disposal to find her. He would have to follow his instincts.

The images from the brief connection with T'Pol led him to believe that she was being kept in the main building at the center of the pier. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash bomb. He set the timer for fifteen seconds and lobbed it over his shoulder to the left. The object soared through the air into the darkness.

His heart raced as he waited for the distraction to take root. A few moments later, a bright flash appeared at the crest of the hill a half-kilometer to the south. As he had hoped, the nearest guard shouted for one of his fellows and the duo took off to investigate. Once they were out of sight, Trip skulked down the hill and toward the center building.

Using the buildings as cover, he slipped past several guards until he at last had front entrance of the main warehouse within his sights. More guards had moved to protect the entrance, no doubt as a result of his diversion. He grimaced. He'd told the bureaucrats from the start that he wasn't any good at the cloak and dagger routine. He was too trusting and too honest to be a spy.

His gaze went to the roof, recalling the skylight T'Pol had shown him through their bond. It looked like he'd be using it after all.

T'Pol blinked several times in rapid succession. The drug was once again beginning to wear off, though her mind was still slightly clouded. She closed her eyes and sought out the familiar blend of colors that indicated his mind was reaching out to hers.

She inhaled sharply when she caught a glimpse of several guards stationed outside a large building. Her eyes snapped open and she blinked to re-accustom them to the light. The moment she'd realized what he was attempting, she'd gently pulled away from his mind. She only hoped the moment's distraction hadn't led to his capture.

Reassured that Trip was in close proximity, she twisted and wriggled her wrists in an attempt to loosen the bonds. She'd made some progress over the last half hour, but the waves of dizziness and brief black outs had impeded her attempts.

At last, he reached the rear of the building and donned the anti-gravity boots. He pressed one boot to the wall and engaged the lock, then tugging to be sure that it was secured. He repeated the process within the other boot.

He took slow, cautious steps at first; but his pace increased to a steady strut as he become accustomed to the surface. Several long moments later, he swung his leg over the ledge and gripped it tightly with his hands, pulling himself up. He collapsed onto the roof, pausing for a moment to catch his breath.

He then made his way toward the skylight and peered down into the room. A sigh of relief slid unchecked past his lips when he saw T'Pol tied to a chair. She looked mostly alert, but her movements were slightly sluggish. This suggested that she had in fact been drugged. That explained why he'd been unable to establish a link with her through their bond as the van had sped away.

He pulled the long, black rope from the bag he carried and looked around for something solid to tie it to. At last, he found a reinforced pipeline secured to the roof. He twisted the rope about the pipe in a knot that would allow him to lower himself into the room. He gave it a few tugs to be sure that it was fastened tightly and made his way toward the skylight. He used a glass cutter from his bag to remove that obstacle and then attached the rope to the clip at his waist. He carefully climbed through the hole, keeping a firm hold on the rope to control his descent, and lowered himself slowly hand over hand to the ground. He stopped and glanced around occasionally when he thought he heard footsteps, but it proved to be his heightened adrenaline triggering his flight response.

His feet at last made contact with solid concrete and he released the rope from the clip. He rushed toward T'Pol to find her gaze slightly unfocused and her eyes fluttering as though she was about to black out. He gripped her chin and forced her to look directly at him. A spark of recognition flashed in her eyes.

"Trip?" she whispered softly.

He nodded. "Yeah, it's me. Come on. Let's get you out of here." His hands shook as he attempted to remove the ropes securing her to the chair.

"No!" she whispered. "Trip, you shouldn't have come. It's a—"

He grunted in pain as a pulse of energy struck him in the back and moments later, darkness enveloped his senses.

Slowly, he became aware of the throbbing ache in the back of his head and he grimaced in pain. Suddenly, he heard a female voice shouting in Romulan. He opened his eyes only to be blinded by a bright light. He snapped his eyes quickly shut as the throbbing intensified and opened them again gradually. It took a few moments before his eyes grew accustomed to the light. Silence had replaced the shouting.

Though she wasn't in his direct line of sight, Trip knew Eveiss was nearby. He could almost imagine the look on her face—like the cat that swallowed the canary. His overconfidence had gotten him caught. He'd been so convinced that he could rescue T'Pol. Harris was right. His cockiness and his pride would get him and those around him killed.

"I can't say this is unexpected," Eveiss drawled. "In fact, I would have been surprised if you hadn't at least tried." She chuckled. "So noble—and yet so foolish."

His lips tightened. "Where's T'Pol?" he barked.

"The Vulcan? She's alive...for now."

"Let her go," he insisted. "You've got me. Now let her go."

She paused. "No. I don't think I will."

"We had a deal," he growled.

"Yes," she agreed. "But you broke it when you attempted to free her yourself." She stepped into view wearing a wide grin. "Since you don't value your own life, I think I'd like to keep her around to ensure your cooperation."

His gaze narrowed. "What are you going to do with me? Take me back to Romulus?"

Her grin faded to be replaced by a scowl. "I cannot return home," she sneered. "Because I failed to capture you during our last meeting, I was forced to abandon my home. I intend for you to die slowly and painfully—but not before you watch your mate suffer the same fate."

Trip's heart raced at the thought of T'Pol being tortured and he imagined the satisfied grin on Eveiss's face as she did what she threatened, which only served to fuel his rage. He struggled violently against his bonds, desperate to get free to end her life before she could lay a hand on T'Pol. The force of his anger frightened him. He'd never wanted anything as badly as he wanted to wring Eveiss's neck, driven by pure instinct to protect T'Pol at all costs.

An amused smirk crossed the Romulan woman's lips and she turned to a man standing near the entrance to the room.

"Bring in the Vulcan," she ordered.

The man inclined his head and exited the room. Several moments later, the man re-entered the room, he and a colleague dragging T'Pol's inert form to the center of the space.

Panic instantly overwhelmed his fury and he intuitively reached out, seeking the color of her mind. A quiet sigh of relief passed his lips when he found it, faded though it was. She was still alive, but for the moment was unconscious.

"Revive her," Eveiss commanded.

The two men paused. "I don't believe that wise, ma'am," the younger of the two offered. "If we awaken her, we risk her escaping."

"Do it!" she hissed. "I want Tucker to see his mate die before his very eyes! I want him to watch the pain mar her features! I want him to feel her agony through their bond—the misery he has caused me."

The younger man hesitated for only a moment before nodding stiffly and pulling out two syringes filled with an unknown substance. Eveiss caught Trip's stare and leered gleefully at him.

"The first will awaken her. The second is Le'matya venon," she replied in answer to his unasked question. "Very poisonous. Administered in small doses, it can prolong the symptoms. The victim will die once enough of the venom has worked its way through their body."

He struggled even more violently against his bonds, feeling the prick of the needle they jabbed T'Pol with as though it was him they were injecting. Her eyes snapped open and a tidal force of alarm besieged him so strong that it encompassed his every thought. He was aware of nothing but the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the blood roaring in his ears, making him deaf to all sound except the hurried thump-thump of his heart pounding mercilessly against the wall of his chest. Then he felt it. Another dull puncture and his every nerve ending burned with the energy of a thousand suns. His cries of anguish joined T'Pol's and he could hardly think over the intensity of the torture. The initial burn faded and he gasped for breath.

His hands shook and he jerked violently as he sought escape from the torture. If he could force his thoughts away from it long enough, he might be able to formulate a plan to get free of his restraints and get T'Pol help. He gritted his teeth and took deep, steady breaths, focusing on the memory that made him the most content, as T'Pol had taught him following the discovery of their bond, then struggled to reach that serenity. He thought of the first time he'd kissed her and the desire rose again, overwhelming the pain. Slowly, the blaze faded to a warm glow. He heaved a sigh of relief. He grinned when he noted Eveiss's taut features. It had worked. Forcing his concerns for T'Pol aside, he again tugged at his bonds. In one swift motion, the ropes split and Eveiss's eyes widened when he stood and clasped his hands tightly around her throat.

"Give her the antidote," he snarled. "I know you have it. It's how you intended to prolong the torture. Give it to her now or I'll snap your neck!"

In the back of his mind even as she clawed at his hands, he recognized the impossibility of what he was doing. Romulans had the same extreme strength of their Vulcan cousins and yet he had Eveiss by the throat and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't free herself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two guards rushing toward him. He released Eveiss and charged at the two men, striking out with lightening speed. They could scarcely keep up with his swings. He knocked both men unconscious with an ease that astounded him. The whirl of an energy weapon charging caught his attention and he turned to find Eveiss pointing the weapon at T'Pol.

His feet acted quicker than his brain and he ran at her, throwing his body in the way of the blast. A searing pain shot through his body as the explosion caught him in the shoulder. He fought through the pain, turning the weapon on Eveiss. Their gazes met for only a moment before he pulled the trigger and satisfaction coursed through him as he watched the life drain from her eyes. Her body fell lifeless to the cold ground.

His hands shook as he searched her pockets for the glass bottle of antidote. At last, he found it and a syringe. He rushed to T'Pol's side and dropped to his knees, then poking the needle through the rubber cap and drawing fluid into the tube. He tapped the syringe a couple of times before pulling it from the bottle and searching for a major vein. After finding it, he jabbed the needle into her arm and injected the fluid. Slowly, her cries of pain faded to whimpers and he sighed in relief when her eyes opened and locked with his.

The buzz of an energy weapon echoed in the small room and he turned to find one of the men pointing it at him. Before he could react, the man was struck in the chest by a blast of fire. He sought out the origin of the shot and found several intelligence agents standing in the doorway. The group rushed forward to restrain the man and bound the other man's hands and feet.

As the medical team examined T'Pol, he strode toward where Eveiss's corpse lay. Despite the circumstances, a niggling feeling of sorrow twisted his stomach in knots. He wished there had been another way, but she had given him no choice. If he hadn't done what he had, T'Pol would most likely have paid for his hesitation with her life.

"You did what needed to be done," a voice whispered solemnly behind him.

He jumped at the sound of Harris's voice and grinned wryly."I told you I wasn't cut out for this," he muttered.

Harris smiled. "On the contrary. You did what very few of even our most decorated agents could have done: you didn't second guess yourself and for that your lady friend owes you her life." He glanced at Trip's injury. "You'd better get that shoulder looked at."

Without another word, Harris exited the room and left Trip staring after him.


	8. Epilogue

"There's every way of knowing. Look, I can guarantee you that we're not going to lose touch." ~Trip Tucker from _These Are The Voyages_

_

* * *

_

**EPILOGUE**

Trip grinned wryly as the nurse fixed the sling holding his left arm. It was the second time in seven years that his arm had been injured. The irony of it all was that it had been the same arm both times. Certainly his parents hadn't anticipated his ability to attract the worst kind of trouble when they'd nicknamed him Trip. He winced slightly as the nurse's adjustments jarred his injury. She offered a small smile of apology and was careful not to be so rough.

The moment she cleared him to leave, he was off the biobed and headed toward T'Pol's room. Though the quick administration of the antidote had slowed and even reversed the toxin's effects, the doctors had insisted that she stay to be observed overnight as a precaution. He chuckled as he recalled her tight-lipped response to that order. In the end, Phlox had been able to convince her that it was best if she remained and if her agreement was anything to go by, she trusted Phlox's judgment more than she would ever admit aloud.

He arrived outside the entrance to the sterile hospital room and stepped inside a moment later only for his eyes to be assaulted by dozens of bright blooms. Normally, the thought that she had so many admirers would have agitated him; however, he could sense her irritation and he just laughed. Her thoughts indicated that each prize had been delivered personally. She fixed him with a tolerant look, which only made him laugh more.

"Well, you're certainly a hot commodity," he teased.

She arched an emotionless eyebrow. "If I recall, you have seen more amorous attention than I during our years of acquaintance."

He stared at her, unsure how to respond. The jest had come out of nowhere and had knocked him for a loop. The worst of it was that he should have seen it coming. Despite their intimate connection, she could still surprise him. He grinned. It was so like her, too, to disguise it in her dry language.

"If these are anything to go by," he added with an exaggerated sweep of his hand. "you've got the whole of Starfleet trying to woo you."

She didn't respond to the obvious bait and turned her attention from him. It was her way of closing the subject. He sighed in resignation and slid into the chair beside her bed. "So...how're you feeling?"

"Quite well," she responded, her gaze once again locking with his. "I am certain that my forced continued habitation here was not at all necessary. Vulcans are not nearly as delicate as Humans."

He gaped at her. "T'Pol...you were poisoned."

She nodded. "And you administered the antidote most promptly. My immune system enhanced the effects of the antidote and, due to the diminutive size of the dose I was exposed to, quickly healed any remaining damage and the toxin was broken down in my blood stream."  
It was no wonder that Vulcans were so much stronger than Humans with such hearty immune systems—no diseases to weaken their body's function.

"So what happens now?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

Both of her brows arched to her hairline. "I presume you mean now that Eveiss is dead?"

He nodded. "I'll still have a price on my head with everything I know. They won't ever stop hunting me."

"We would be unable to remain here," she concluded. "At least until the Romulan threat has been eliminated."

A pang of sorrow struck him square in the stomach at the thought of going on the run again. He'd hoped that with enough time he'd be able to see his parents again and tell them what had really happened. It had broken his heart to watch his mother weeping openly at his funeral. She'd had to bury two of her children—a pain that he could sympathize with. No parent should ever have to bury one of their children, much less two. Suddenly, it struck him that she'd said 'we'. His heart raced and he didn't dare hope that she meant what he thought she meant.

"We?" he whispered, his eyes wide.

Her lips tugged up slightly in the corners, no doubt the closest she would ever come to a smile. "You are my ashayam. To be parted from you again would be more unpleasant than an ever-lasting Pon-Farr."

"But where would we go?" he queried. "There's nowhere on Earth that we'd be safe."

"We will return to my mother's home on Vulcan," she responded with ease. "My commission will have expired by this time and it is my choice whether to have it extended. Certainly it will not arouse suspicion that I wish to return home and start a family."

He flashed her one of his breath-taking hundred-watt smiles. "That works well with what I had in mind." He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a simple diamond ring, then dropped to one knee. T'Pol's eyebrows arched at the very clear indications of Trip's impending query. "T'Pol, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Her response was instant and so Human-like, she wondered if Trip's own desires hadn't prompted the fall of her emotional barriers. "Yes," she replied. Before he could react, her lips were on his in a heated kiss. He chuckled and pulled away, sliding the ring onto that certain finger.

"I know technically we are married," he added quickly, sensing the impending discussion. "I just wanted to make it official. Where I come from, you're not married until the preacher declares you man and wife."

She nodded. "I understand. However, you are supposed to be deceased. Will this not cause difficulties with a ceremony?"

"I'd thought about that, too," he countered. "Phlox did a helluva job on that Romulan face of mine. I don't imagine it would be too difficult for him to work out a Vulcan one. Then we could get married on Vulcan."

He felt her amusement through the bond. "You will need much instruction in Vulcan ways and language if you are to pass for a native."

"I'm willing to learn," he added with a wink. "Besides, if the last year is any indication, I'm a quick study."

She glanced out the window overlooking the Starfleet grounds. "Perhaps one day we can return."

He cupped her chin gently and their gazes locked, a grin sliding across his lips. "I don't give a damn where we live, darlin'. You'll be my home no matter where we go."

He pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss and lost himself in the desire she stirred within him. At last, they were together and nothing would ever separate them again.


End file.
